986.M41 Raxis Prime
Inquisitor Karev sighed as he felt the ground underneath him shake. He lifted a lho stick to his mouth and lit it with a lighter he had borrowed off of a guardsman's corpse somewhere down the line. He sat inside a shoddily put together command tent, a desk in front of him and two commanders in front of him. One was the older man, Commander Jerimiah, while the other was a much younger Captain Lukas, a man with short brown hair and brown skin.
The smoke filled his lungs, calming his nerves somewhat. The things might kill him in the long run, but in the position, he was in now, he needed something to keep him from panicking. He had sent the request for Captain Jarod two weeks ago, and even though he knew warp travel could take months, he was still holding out hope that Jarod would arrive soon.
He had also sent requests for aid to many other organizations and groups, but each had either refused outright or agreed to help once they had finished their current mission. Some didn't even respond at all.
The initial panic caused by the warp rift was soon reigned in, the guardsmen organized and set up into a defensive position around the rift. Daemons poured out regularly, simple and dumb creatures at first, nothing that a few well-placed explosives couldn't deal with. The problems started when the cultists began to show up.
No one was sure where they first started coming from, only that around the fifth day of constant combat against the daemons, hundreds of crazed men started running out of the rift. Most of them bore the markings of Khorne, running as fast as they could to get into melee range with the guardsmen. The daemons began to narrow in their scope as well, with more blood-letters showing up and the others beginning to dwindle.
By the end of the first week, the guardsmen were facing Khornate daemons and cultists exclusively, with only a rare sighting of anything belonging to any of the other three. The only exception was some small Tzeentchian daemon that seemed more inclined to observe and stay alive, retreating any time it was spotted by any guardsmen.
Karev idly wondered what interest the god of change held in the war, but he immediately purged the thought from his mind. That line of thinking led to destruction and little else.
Regardless, things seemed to be going well until two days ago. They had managed to hold the cultists back with minimal casualties of their own, banishing the daemons back the warp and gunning down anything that tried charging their lines.
Then the Astartes showed up. Traitor Marines.
They rushed forward and broke the guardsmen line, ripping and tearing into the trenches that had been dug, forcing many of the guardsmen to retreat. Far too many guardsmen died, and there were far too few traitor corpses to show for it.
At present, only a third of the Imperial line still stood, with the rest of the guardsmen from the other parts of the defense falling back to reinforce the said line. Orbital bombardment was out of the question, as they were just as likely to hit their own men as they were traitors. Much of the artillery belonging to the Imperials had been destroyed, abandoned in favor of keeping as many men as possible alive. Even then, of the two hundred thousand men that Karev had taken command of at the beginning of the campaign, twenty thousand had been killed in combat with the Tau, and almost sixty thousand had been lost to the daemonic hordes of Chaos.
The second line corps had been utterly wiped out at this point, with the third and fourth being drained of men and resources. Only the first remained somewhat intact, being in reserve during the final assault on the Tau.
The current plan was to transport as many forces to the base of a nearby mountain in order to wait out the traitors and hope that reinforcements would arrive soon.
"Inquisitor, how long are we supposed to hold out for? If we can't evacuate or the reinforcements don't arrive soon then we're all going to die here." Captain Lukas on the other side of his desk asked.
Jeremiah answered before Karev could get the chance, "We will hold out as long as we can. As much as I may hate the idea of fighting down to the last man, better we do that than let this world become a daemon world."
The younger captain paled slightly at the implications, "You… Do you think that could actually happen?" he asked in disbelief.
"Without a doubt," Karev answered for the commander, "I may not be an expert in daemonology but even I can tell you that it won't take long for them to do so. The longer we hold out, the longer it will take for them to complete whatever rituals it will take to further escalate the situation."
The group considered their options further, deciding to just wait as long as they could. Eventually, they received word that the troops had all managed to get into position around the mountain, with the daemons closing in on them. The first defense was not an easy one.
The first wave of cultists, bloodletters, flesh hounds and many other assorted daemonic entities slammed against the Imperial defense. The guardsmen had dug themselves in well, and for two solid days held strong. Nothing the servants of Khorne could throw at them seemed to be getting through… at first.
It was halfway through the third day when the first line of defense, the right flank to be specific, reported the presence of a greater daemon. Shortly after, the vox went silent and a pillar of fire was visible from where the attached troops were entrenched. No one was eager to fight whatever could do that.
Regardless, Inquisitor Karev sent a detachment of a thousand men to reinforce the flank. They at least managed to get a good look at the monster before being burned alive by it.
It was a massive, four-meter tall creature made entirely out of brass armor, with fire seeming to come from its eyes, mouth, and multiple spots on its armor. The armor itself could be recognized as a long since skewed and remodeled Astartes armor, with visages of the World Eaters traitor legion visible on its pauldrons. Marks of Khorne were spread all over its body, and it wielded a giant flaming whip with three large hooks on the end.
For better or for worse, Karev received this information shortly before the force he'd sent was utterly slaughtered by the greater daemon. He cursed in frustration.
'I should've been a member of the Ordo Malleus if I was to be expected to deal with this! I specialize in Xenos for the Emperor's sake! Not this!' he thought.
The next twenty-four hours weren't any better. With the right flank collapsing in on itself, the rest of the first line began to fall apart. Daemons ran rampant through the trenches, tearing men apart and forcing those that could to retreat to the second line. After the fourth day, the first line had been completely wiped out. All that was left was the second and third lines, and beyond that was the fortress inside the mountain itself.
If the daemons managed to get inside the mountain itself, then there would be nothing left of the Imperial defenders. And after that, it wouldn't be long until the entire planet would be consumed by Chaos and turned into a daemon world.
Three more days they held out, the second line slowly being corroded away by the chaotic forces. The greater daemon that singlehanded wiped out the first lines right flank was spotted several more times, each time dealing massive amounts of damage and wiping out thousands of soldiers.
By the seventh day of the defense, the second line had completely collapsed, and the third line was being battered. Of the 120,000 troops, there were only around 50,000 left defending the third line and the fortress.
Only time would tell how long they could hold out.
[-----]
"Reinforcements needed at the left flank! They're tearing us apart!"
"Are those space marines!? The right flank is under attack- GAH!"
"Greater daemon sighted in sector three! Requesting reinforcements!"
Messages flooded Karevs vox-bead, all of them calling for reinforcements or reporting enemy movements. Nothing was in good condition. The ships up in orbit were all running skeleton crews, barely able to assist in any way with no real bombardment options available to them. An evacuation was out of the question, but they couldn't leave without the express orders of their superiors. It was a lose-lose situation.
Karev sighed as he redirected troop movements and numbers on his data-slate, trying in vain to stall the daemons as long as he could. A tank regiment sent here, an artillery strike there, none of it was very professional and he would likely be branded as incompetent if he survived the battle.
Then, the front line broke.
"All units retreat to the fortress!" Karev ordered as he began strapping his carapace armor on, "I repeat! Retreat to the fortress!"
The left and right flanks retracted from their positions as fast as they could, while what was left of the front tried to form a staggered retreat. Karev himself began walking out of his bunker room to the front of the fortress. Gun emplacements dotted the mountainside, trenches circles the only entrance and exit to the fortress. Men and women grimaced in grim determination, determined to take as many daemons down with them as they could.
"All troops ready!" Karev shouted as he drew his las-pistol, checking the power-pack and making sure it was at maximum energy output.
In the distance, he could see men and vehicles retreating through the forests of Raxis Prime, and he could hear the screams of the men and women that were too slow to get away from the daemons. And that was when it showed up.
Lumbering out of the treeline, the greater daemon of Khorne roared in a challenge, daring anyone to cross the three hundred meter gap between it and friendly lines in order to engage it in melee combat. The response of the guardsmen was to shoot it in the face. Repeatedly. With everything they had.
Lasguns, plasma weapons, bolters, heavy stubbers, krak missiles, grenades, and anything else the guardsmen could find was hurled towards the greater daemon. Unfortunately, none of it seemed to have much effect.
The daemon charged, and the forces of chaos not far behind. Cultists, lesser daemons, and even traitor marines all ran forward, slamming into the Imperial line.
"Fire everything you have!" Karev ordered as he began firing his las-pistol, getting a headshot on a cultist. No one argued his orders.
The fighting was gruesome, agonizing, and beyond what any of them had trained for. It was all Karev could do to keep standing.
Then, one message managed to make itself audible over everything else.
"How are you guys holding out down there?"
Karev blinked. Then looked up. He gazed in glee as he saw Imperial dropships begin to fly above them, before the troops inside said dropships began diving out, activating their grav-chutes and opening fire on the daemons with their modified lasguns. White beams of light shot forward, ripping the lesser daemons and cultists apart and forcing the traitor marines to actually take cover. More and more of Jarod's measly five thousand men began to reinforce the Imperial line.
Karev grinned as one of the dropships landed near his position, and Jarod Carolinus stepped out.
"Well… looks like the fat lady hasn't just sung, but she's halfway to her hotel." Jarod quipped.
Karev grinned as he redirected his attention to the battlefield before him, "Took you long enough! I assume you have a plan!?" he asked frantically.
Jarod smiled. With a blink, intentionally or not, his eyes lit up with a golden-yellow light. "I think I have a few ideas." He drew the power-sword at his side and charged forward. His right palm surged forward, and a burst of lightning shot forth impacting a cultist, and further chaining into a dozen others.
With blinding speed, Jarod began tearing into the cultists and daemons, lighting and fire at his fingertips. If Karev were to guess, then Jarod would have to be an alpha psyker at least. As it was, the Rogue Trader moved like the wind, dodging any attacks he didn't outright halt with his own abilities. Traitor marine bolts detonated against a psychic shield, gouts of fire from daemons did nothing to him as he simply waded through them.
All of this came to a halt when Jarod found himself face to face with the greater daemon.
As it was, he had cut a bloody path through the daemonic forces, allowing the guardsmen a brief respite from the harsh combat. Now, however, he stood before something that would test his abilities without a doubt. The daemon roared, bringing its massive whip down on Jarod. Jarod did a backflip in the air, courtesy of telekinesis, before landing on top of the husk of a Leman Russ tank.
"I guess you're the one who's been causing so much trouble eh?" Jarod asked the daemon, getting a roar of pure rage in response.
Jarod shrugged, before unleashing a stream of yellow fire from his palm that enveloped the daemon's entire body. The daemon screamed as its flesh was actually burned by warpfire before it sent its whip careening towards Jarod. The Rogue Trader dodged the attack at the cost of letting up his own assault, giving the daemon enough time to lunge forward to grab him.
Jarod narrowly dodged the initial grab, only for a second attempt to successfully grab onto his leg. The daemon swung Jarod's body to the side, sending him flying. Jarod, thinking quickly, used his power to stabilize his trajectory and lift himself up into the air, hovering just above the greater daemon.
The creature roared again, sending a blast of daemonic fire towards Jarod's floating form.
[-----]
Nuk'Kazznik'thuk was a fairly weak daemon, not being good for anything more than observation really. It was a wonder the Daemon Primarch, Magnus the red, had even sent it to do anything at all. Still, it at least enjoyed watching the servants of Khorne and the mortal's of the Imperium go at each other.
Until he showed up. A man, short enough that he could have been mistaken for a child, walked out onto the battlefield along with the reinforcements that had come to the Imperial's aid. The man seemed to glow within the Immaterium, unnaturally so, and any attempts to tempt him with power, pleasure or anything else only seemed to harm the tempter. His mind was like that of an anathema, not unlike the Corpse Emperor was before he had been bound to the golden throne.
It was curious that the man was so capable out on the battlefield, wielding his powers in such a way that would have been foolishly reckless for anyone else, but because of his anathemic properties, he could do just fine with.
None of the more diplomatic daemons could get anywhere near his mind, and those that tried were simply burned in a white hot blaze for their troubles. It was a wonder how he was able to do such a thing, and witnessing it made the Daemon of Tzeentch cringe. This was what the Primarch was so interested in?
It made sense at the very least, but even so, the daemon thought it best to simply observe, and wait for his opportunity.
[-----]
Jarod coughed onto the back of his hand, witnessing the blood that covered it. Ruptured left lung, where the daemon's whip had found purchase on his body. Not the worst injury he'd ever had to deal with, but it was dangerous.
Their fight had actually cut into the daemonic forces rather well, with the greater daemon not caring for the safety of his comrades, only focusing on Jarod and their fight. Jarod, on the other hand, was all too aware of the guardsmen's squishyness and had gone to great lengths to keep them from getting killed unnecessarily.
Their battle had torn into the land itself, with great swaths of dirt being turned up and shifted, trees being pulled up and used as battering rams. The daemon's whip was long gone now, but that didn't make the creature any less dangerous. Its fiery breath seemed to burn the very ground it walked on, and every time Jarod attempted to deal the killing blow, it seemed to do the impossible and avoid his attack.
It had only gotten worse when the daemon had sprouted bat-like, fiery wings and the two began dancing in the skies above the battlefield. Jarod hated admitting it to himself, but he wasn't going to last much longer if the fight kept up the way it did.
"Alright… how about we make a deal?" he asked the daemon, only getting a roar in response, "You die, and I go home. How does that sound?"
Jarod used all of what he thought was his remaining power and brought himself flying into the air. He gathered his energy, and the daemon sensed it, roaring in defiance and charging toward him. Jarod, for his part, closed his eyes in order to focus. He felt the energy building, and he felt the power expanding within himself. It kept getting bigger and brighter.
Then, he felt the greater daemon slam into him, a rush of heat, and everything went white.
[-----]
Karev attempted to shield his eyes from the enormous explosion that went off high above the battlefield. A massive, bright white ball of energy seemed to coalesce rapidly around where Jarod and the greater daemon had been fighting, and the blast had blinded many guardsmen and cultists alike.
It made Karev wonder just what Jarod had done, and when he looked up, he was given an answer.
The chared, torn, and burning body didn't even hit the ground as its form burned away, its existence being banished back to the warp. Jarod was nowhere to be seen… at first. Karev caught a glimpse of Jarod's body falling to the ground, no slowing down in any capacity. The inquisitor began to panic, shouting into his vox-bead for Jarod to wake up.
Yet, Jarod's unconscious form kept falling, until it reached only a few hundred meters from the ground, where white fire seemed to envelop his body as he readjusted himself to hit the ground legs first at terminal velocity. Karev went wide-eyed as he ran forward to see where the Rogue Trader had landed and was shocked at what he saw.
He found Jarod kneeling in a crater, surrounded by cultists and Daemons who were attempting to recover from the shockwave of Jarod's impact. Jarod himself glowed an eerie white, his eyes bright globes of fire in and of themselves. He didn't smile, he didn't snark, instead, he unleashed a wave of fire that seemed to burn the daemon's and cultists alike. When the wave washed over Karev, he flinched at first but found that the flames seemed to have no effect on him.
Jarod began to walk forward, before Karev rushed forward, grabbing his shoulder, "Jarod! What on Terra is this!" Karev said as he pulled Jarod around to face him.
When he looked into his eyes, Karev blanched. Those eyes were filled with something akin to a burning fury, or a writhing hatred, unlike anything Karev had ever seen before. Or perhaps it was something else entirely, some emotion beyond the normal human understanding.
"You do not understand, Inquisitor Karev, son of Marvin, for you have never witnessed the Emperor's own fury." The not-Jarod explained, "Now observe, as I show you a mere fraction of the Emperor's own power."
Karev's eyes widened when the thing turned away from him and raised its hands out to the battlefield in front of it. Without warning, another wave of fire was sent out, washing over the entire battlefield before them. Daemons roared in agony as holy fire tore at their very beings while cultists and traitor Astartes screamed as the corruptions of chaos were ripped from their minds. The Imperial's, however, all began to feel rejuvenated by the wave of energy, soon redoubling their efforts.
Karev watched in awe as an anathema to chaos itself waged war against the ruinous powers.
[-----]
The daemon of Tzeentch screamed as its soul was banished to the warp. It writhed in agony as it limped it's way back to its master on the planet of sorcerer's. The anathema had returned! There was no other explanation! Unless… no, all of the Primarch's were either dead or turned traitor, and the anathema that had wiped out the forces on Raxis Prime was far to short to be a primarch! And yet, the corpse emperor still sat upon his throne.
Magnus the red grimaced as the daemon collapsed upon the foot of his throne. It seemed as though the daemon's report might not even be necessary.
"What did you see…" Magnus began.
The daemon recounted its tale, starting from the first opening of the warp rift to the moment it was banished to the warp. For every word it spoke, it seemed that the Crimson Daemon's scowl only deepened.
"So, the Inquisition hasn't killed them all after all. A wonder some of my half-brothers have survived all this time. Perhaps it will be time for a reunion soon…"
Magnus stood from his throne. It was time to prepare.